


Indoors

by Eliya



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Enjolras is not happy, Grantaire knows how to handle it, M/M, enjoltaire - Freeform, exr - Freeform, they have a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliya/pseuds/Eliya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras hates being forced to anything. Namely, staying inside on a rainy day when obviously he had things to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indoors

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a little while back. You can find it on my tumblr at darren-tveiting :)

Patria hooked her claws into the sheets and jumped onto the bed. Enjolras huffed as she curled up into a heaving ball of fur on his chest. Grantaire chuckled.

Enjolras hated being being forced to stay inside. He hated being forced to do anything, with as much passion as a seven-year-old kid. But the rain was getting increasingly heavier and he was just grumpy about it so he didn't bother picking up his laptop and updating his blog. He had just been half-lying on his bed and scowling at his feet when their cat blocked his view of said feet. Now he was scowling at her.

"Enjolras, you need to get out of bed," said Grantaire, who was propped up against his pillow beside him and holding a book. He didn’t seem to mind the pounding rain.

The blond’s dismay deepened. “Speak for yourself,” he retorted petulantly. His boyfriend just snorted and continued reading.

Today was supposed to be their group’s next big rally. It had been 8 in the morning when Combeferre had called him, waking him, and convinced him that no they were not going to continue their protest in the rain, not in rain as heavy as this kind anyhow. It was at that point when Enjolras began to feeling like a child and so badly wanted to erupt into a tantrum because he had worked so hard on this rally and he did not want all that to go to waste. And so, Enjolras had calmly hung up and proceeded to wake Grantaire up with what could only be referred to as a bratty banshee screech.

Thank god this wasn’t the first time Grantaire had had to deal with this side of Enjolras. That memory just made him want to curl up and die.

Shortly after that screech he had thrown himself back on the bed—fully clothed this time—and had not left it since, except to take half a step away from it in order to get some food in his mouth.

His boyfriend, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the fact that such bad weather had closed the cafe he worked at for the day, and had also not really moved from the bed, but he was much happier about it compared to Enjolras.

Since Enjolras had lost the will to do anything useful, Grantaire had done most of the house things—made something of a meal, fed Patria, cleaned up the kitchen—and left Enjolras to sulk. He had hope two hours ago that Enjolras would snap out of it soon enough. That hope had been slowly dwindling since then, and now, at 3 in the afternoon, he wasn’t sure there was any of it left.

Grantaire sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and snapped the book shut. He leaned over to his boyfriend, traced his jaw with one careful finger, and kissed his cheek lightly. Enjolras just grumbled.

Grantaire tried again, this time planting his kiss a little closer to Enjolras’ mouth, but drew no reaction out of him. Finally, he grabbed his face and kissed him firmly, and though Enjolras responded, he could tell he really wasn’t feeling it at the moment.

"What to do with you," Grantaire mumbled amusedly. With another angry huff, Enjolras blew a stray curl away from his eye. "Well," Grantaire shrugged casually, "if you’re just going to sit there and look pretty all day, I might as well make you useful."

He bounced off their bed, dug his sketchbook from under a few rumpled shirts, grabbed his pencils, and seated himself in the armchair in the corner of their bedroom. Humming thoughtfully, he began messily sketching out Enjolras’ outline.

A few minutes before, Enjolras had been resolute about staying in bed and scowling all day. But now Grantaire had made him feel like he had to stay in bed and model for him, and again, Enjolras did not like being made to do anything. Yes, it was childish, but he felt like being a child at the moment so he didn't care.

Roughly fifteen minutes into Grantaire’s sketch, Enjolras was itching to move, getting more and more conscious and irritated at staying still with every passing second. With an annoyed growl he promptly sat up, drawing a yowl and a hiss from Patria and stood up. But yes, fine, the scowl was still there.

"I’m getting food," he said curtly. 

Grantaire looked up at his sketchbook and grinned smugly. “I knew I could make you get up,” he laughed. He set his materials down on the small table beside him, stood up and wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ waist. He was still grinning.

Enjolras was staring him squarely in the face, but he could already feel his glower slipping just from Grantaire’s contagious grin. He rolled his eyes and looked at his feet. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

"You’re adorable," Grantaire whispered, after a moment’s pause.

"I know."

"Do you?"

Enjolras finally looked up. The corner of his lips quirked up. “Yeah.”

"How?"

He rolled his eyes again. “You keep telling me,” he said, giving in and pulling Grantaire’s face to his. He kissed him firmly. “You literally never shut up about it.”

Grantaire smirked and kissed him again. “You like it.”

Enjolras sighed. “Yeah, I do.”


End file.
